She's the Competition
by ican-whoawhoawhoawhoawhoa
Summary: Sara is invited over to her sister's house and reflects on the competition she finds there.


The walls that had once been painted with the colours of my fondest memories are now blurred by a deep royal blue, the stairs I reluctantly head up creaking under my unfamiliar weight, the new pictures lining the walls shredding through the memories that barely withhold the test of time I'm presented with. How long has it been now? I can't tell; I can no longer detect the faint scent of coffee that had been the equivalent of a bent page corner in my favourite book. It seems you have attempted to cover any reminder of our time together with each milestone in your new, 'healthier' relationship. Each step I take is a yank against the hastily stitched wounds on my bleeding heart, though I continue. I continue, knowing fully well that each smiling portrait is a warning that I am not welcome, that my presence might as well be the shouts of a jealous ex, the deep breath that rattles my sore ribs shaking me back to my senses as I knock on your door, bracing myself for the worst.

"No, it's fine, Linds, it's not-" You've paused mid-sentence, your arm outstretched as you open the door. It seems as though you truly hadn't expected me to show up, the wideness of your eyes completely giving you away as you take in the very outfit you had ripped off my body that night so long ago. I wonder, do you remember me as I was then, the unworthy disciple attempting to follow in your footsteps? Do you remember me as the devout student I was, carving your prayer into my skin with each unholy kiss to the veins carefully restrained by silent screams begging for salvation? It seems to me that you've forgotten.

You've stepped aside to close the door, allowing me a brief encounter with the energy that has replaced mine and a view of the bed we had nearly broken together as we drowned in our own misled affections. I wonder now if those sheets have haunted the moments with her that should have been blissful, screaming out my name in the silence that follows breathy gasps and sickening screams. You end the call that had my breath hitching faster than when your hand had dissolved my every attempt at speaking.

"She's not here, then?" As if my voice hadn't been the one you'd begged to hear, you flinch back with a quick "no" and, oh, how I wish the thickness in the air was result of a different tension, as the palpable indifference severs my hopes at rekindling our friendship far more than any slam of a door could hope to do. I follow behind as you descend the stairs that easily equal a walk of shame, desperately trying to encourage my lips to move, to form the words that will stitch our fragmented relationship back together. I remember you had done the exact motion that night when your dry lips had gone neglected by my kiss for too long - that is, before they were bruised as though you'd gotten into a fight.

The fact that you look picture perfect reinforces the idea that 'LB' is no competition, but instead a mere obstacle in my way. She's forced a wedge between our bodies that have been steadily gaining distance from the other as you run from the confrontation you've never been able to face. Perhaps it's best that she's not here; after all, you always did know how to start a fight. I want to ask if she's better than me, but I can tell by the lack of bags under your eyes that she's not nearly as good as I am; I can tell by the way you walk that she'll never be.

You instruct me to take a seat, the shake in your voice mocking the one that had accompanied mine, and, as I oblige, you escape into the kitchen, as if that is a safe spot we hadn't touched with our sinful hands. You've resorted to keeping your back to me; I suppose that must seem better than looking me in the eye, right? It's almost laughable how uncomfortable you've become when you'd been so at ease that morning, wrapped in my arms, sleeping soundly. It's a joke how she's treated you, and in that same respect, her efforts pale in comparison to the affection I could give.


End file.
